The Fundamental Difference Between Uz

Fridays, like some other days, huv become lonely fur the Azzy boy. A’ve come tae loathe the once sacred Friday night. Aye, A might be treadin the right path n everybody kin see how well yir dain, aff drugs n barely drinkin, but there’s suhin missin. Some kind ae cavity that a past spent like ours hus left. There’s nae new pals tae go n dae other stuff wae. A dream aboot dain stuff we missed oot on when we wur younger. Campin n shite like that. Yir too eld tae dae that kinda stuff, or at least tae dae it in the same way. Yi heard cunts talkin aboot burds n mad adventure holidays travellin n goin indoor snowboardin at Braeheed n shit like that, different shit. We never done nuhin like that n if yi hud asked anycunt tae they wid just huv laughed. There’s nuhin tae talk aboot wae a decent burd – nae prospects, nae adventures. The mad scheme burds ir still attracted tae cunts who think they’re mental. We’re past aw that noo. Wit’s left? There’s nae mass exodus ae cunts changin their lives. The road tae redemption is always gonnae be a lonely wan.

The door goes. It’s Monica. A’m no expectin hur n we don’t say anyhin at first, but she looks softer, like suhin’s changed. We hud been heavy textin each other n it wis progressin towards the inevitable, but she hud gone quiet the last few days n patched us. A’d been starin intae the messages tryin tae analyse our chat. Every time the phone wid ping A wid hope it wis hur, but nuhin. The usual chaos starts unfoldin n yi furget – Monica always hud tae compete wae that. A never sent a second text. ‘Well, are you goin to ask me in?’ She walks by, no waitin fur an answer, n touches ma hand wae hers just enough tae let me know. A close the door n turn, then she’s pullin us closer n givin me the look so there’s nae doubt. We kiss in the doorway n A kin smell hur perfume, the same wan she always wore. It’s hur smell, the wan that used tae haunt ma pillow after she left.

‘Alan, I’m sorry for keepin you waiting. I wanted to … I was just …’

‘No sure?’

‘I was sure. Just scared.’

‘Scared ae wit?’

‘Scared of what it means.’

A smile n laugh, brushin hur fringe oot hur eyes. ‘What dis it mean?’

‘I dunno! That I maybe … like ya!’

‘Same.’

‘Well, I can’t hang about here much longer. My year abroad is starting in a month – what do you think?’

‘What dae A think aboot what?’

‘Would you come with me to France? I’m going to get my own place, and I’d be grateful of the company.’

A wee serious look crosses hur face. This is gonnae be hur new beginnin but – the end of hur life here. Monica wid move on n while a fool in love dares tae dream it isnae so, our paths ir awready forkin n we’re hangin on tae some past thing, suhin that never really wis. Even though yi know it’s fucked, it’s hur face that A just cannae let go. There’s suhin wrong wae us though, some betrayal ae fate. Two ae us, destined tae move on in separate directions, but holdin each other back, tightly.